


Four moons

by Sierra Roo (SoySierra)



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoySierra/pseuds/Sierra%20Roo
Summary: The runes fall and Uhtred feels as if the room is frozen.UbbaWhen the morning sun pulls diners out of their drunken sleep, it is that certainty is finally present in his mind. He will have to spend four moons in the forest with Ubba. It is at that moment that the sensation of horror breaks through to its full extent.
Relationships: Uhtred of Bebbanburg/Ubba
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. New moon

**Author's Note:**

> No one:......
> 
> Literally no one: ......
> 
> Me: Yes, I am going to ship Uhtred with Ubba !! 
> 
> God, sometimes I think I try hard to pick weird ships. If someone finds a place in their heart for them and wants to send me love, I will be very grateful!

Runes are stones. Beyond its importance to the Viking people, beyond its mystical meaning, the deep connection that they ideally have with the gods, runes are just stones. Stones carved with inscriptions that are thrown from time to time by skilled hands to predict events.  
  
Uthred has never paid too much attention to those little stones. Perhaps, if he were older, more experienced, more hardened by the vicissitudes of life ...  
  
Perhaps, he would have.  
  
In another universe, in one which he is not a young man just leaving behind the remains of his childhood, perhaps he would have been more prudent. No doubt he would have prepared better for all this. He would have traced with his brother Ragnar the young, a plan to sabotage the runes, to make them fall in a certain way. They could even have bribed Storri and made his design different.  
  
They do not do it. His brother is not even present when the ceremony takes place. A storm has delayed his arrival. Uhtred isn't able to interpret this as an ominous omen until much later.  
  
The ritual of celebrating the entrance to maturity was a deeply rooted custom among the Danes. It was mandatory that the youth spend four moons in the forest with an experienced adult. He was the son of Ragnar, so it was in his destiny to be a future warrior. In his case, the ritual had to be performed by a warlord.  
  
His impatient desire to be recognized as a true Dane eclipse any other thought. This is a ritual that he has waited and longed for since he has been adopted by Ragnar. Even his brother has made himself a man by that method. Uhtred doesn't understand what that means until it's too late.  
  
The guests along with the most important members of his family are seated in a large circle. Storri throws the stones after reciting the words. The runes fall and it is in that instant that Uhtred feels as if the room is frozen.  
  
 _Ubba._  
  
The runes clearly point to the warlord: Ubba. The giant stands up as soon as his name is announced. He nods slightly to Earl Ragnar and then nods his thanks to the gods. Uhtred watches him intently as horror builds in his chest.   
  
Ragnar, his father, celebrates with the other warlords what he believes, it is a lucky omen. Beer, chants and food circulate among the guests until the next day.  
  
When the morning sun pulls diners out of their drunken sleep, it is that certainty is finally present in his mind. He must spend four moons in the forest with Ubba. It is at that moment that the sensation of horror breaks through to its full extent.  
  
*  
  
The shaking awakens his from a dream in which he does not remember falling. For a minute, for a wonderful minute, he feels that the night before may have been a product of his imagination. A horrible nightmare and nothing more.  
  
“Hurry or you will not reach him.” Old Ravn admonishes him.  
  
Uhtred looks around. Most of the guests are still drunk in various parts of the hall. Ragnar himself, has succumbed to exhaustion on his throne. No. It actually happened. The runes, the design of the gods ...  
  
Uhtred jumps to his feet. With clumsy hands he collects his few belongings as best he can. In his mind he repeats that he must do this. He must if he ever wants to take Bebbanburg back. It is his destiny to become a warrior and Ubba is his only way ...

He is about to leave, when Ravn's voice stops him.  
  
“Wait!” The old Dane watches him, his gray gaze following his every move. “Remember, Ubba is a man who follows the designs of the gods.”  
  
He knows that, so he does not understand why the old man chooses to remind him of that right then.  
  
Uhtred gives him a slight nod of appreciation. He does not know what to say. Suddenly, the Ravn's words on his first day with the Danes are present in his mind.  
  
 _Never cross Ubba._

_And never, never .. Fight him._

_*_

His mare is one of the fastest animals in the village. Its hooves echo loudly on the leaves as they speed through the trees. Despite that, Ubba has too much advantage over him.

Uhtred follows the trail of the warlord. He has no idea where exactly is the place where the rituals are performed. The shame of not being able to find him and having to return to the village without being able to complete the passage to his maturity assails him strongly as the minutes pass.  
  
On several occasions he must stop to think. Get off his mare, scans the ground, looks among the mud and weeds for traces that the other's may have left in the road.  
  
The wind blows from time to time making him believe that he has finally found him. By the position of the sun, he can tell that it is close to noon. Hours have passed since he left the village.  
  
What would his father Ragnar say if he had to go back? What would he say about the Saxon boy whose life he spared if he could not fulfill his task because he fell asleep?  
  
Uhtred accelerates the march. The mare snorts in complaint. He cannot allow it. Better to die in the woods than to have to return.  
  
*  
  
When he visualizes a blur of blond, Uthred feels a deep relief. He rushes from his mare to the ground to cover the distance that separates them on foot. It is an attempt to calm down. His heart is still pounding at the growing nervousness that has plagued him thus far.  
  
Ubba is walking around what appears to be a tent made of dirty fabrics. It is built it in a small clearing a few meters from a river with little flow. The young man takes a moment to tie the animal to a nearby tree. Unconsciously, trying to prolong his encounter with the warlord as long as possible.  
  
 _You will have to spend a month with him. Prolonging it further does not make any sense_. 

A voice in his mind tells him fiercely, so he takes courage and goes to him. Undoubtedly, Ubba has already seen him approach. In a quick movement he gets into the tent and from there, he throws a series of materials outside. Branches, rocks, what appear to be broken utensils and some bones, possible remains of a dinner carried out by their predecessors.  
  
Uhtred awaits him wisely outside. He does not want to be hit by any of those projectiles. Finally, after a while, a heavy cauldron is carelessly thrown at his feet. The blond dane's head pops out a few seconds later, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.  
  
“What are you waiting for? Don't just stand there! Go for water!"

  
Uhtred can't help but feel a sarcastic smile spreading across his features.  
  
“Yes, Lord.”  
  
It was definitely going to be a difficult month.  
  
*  
  
When he returns with the heavy cauldron in his hands, Uhtred cautiously enters the tent. The fire is lit. However, to his surprise, there is no trace of the veteran warrior.  
  
Uhtred leaves the water on one side and takes the opportunity to tour the place. Not much to see. The tent is barely big enough to house the two of them. A sector in the center to place the fire, two rudimentary beds on the sides. The young man feels a wave of apprehension at the thought that he must share such a small space with such a dangerous subject.  
  
He is distracted for a moment by the objects that hang here and there on the boards that support the roof of the tent. Some bones, leaves, nutshells and branches arranged in positions that he has seen in the rune inscriptions ..  
  
Those damned runes ..

He prefers not to think about them just yet.  
  
*  
  
Sunset is rushing over the horizon. Uhtred has gone out to collect as much wood as possible. It is still autumn, but the nights begin to cool down as the days go by.  
  
Still no trace of Ubba. So he entertains himself by sharpening the blades that he has brought. He accommodates the beds as best he can and is dedicated to waiting. He has tried to hunt something near the perimeter around the tent but has not been successful. He has been careful not to stray too far for fear that when Ubba returned he would find that he was not there. He might think that he has abandoned the ritual and that would be a shame.  
  
At dusk, Uhtred goes out again to briefly tour the place. It is new moon, so it is difficult to see outside. The anxiety of not knowing exactly what to do runs through him again. He has no idea where Ubba has gone or when he will return.  
  
If he will return.  
  
The fact that the warrior has changed his mind to return to the village is a possibility that grows as the minutes progress. He knew that Ubba had no affection for him. They had never exchanged more words than necessary. His tolerance for him lay almost exclusively in his bond with Ragnar.  
  
Uhtred was not delusional. Neither of them wanted to be in that situation. The warrior could have returned justifying his actions in some fault that he may have. In his delay in finding the place, he could even invent a motive and no one would dare to contradict him.  
  
If that happened, his name would be stained forever. No other warlord would want to volunteer to guide him. Then he would never achieve his destiny.  
  
*  
  
Several hours have passed when he finally hears the sound of footsteps outside. Instinctively, Uhtred takes one of the blades. In those places you never knew when you could be attacked by an enemy.  
  
Ubba enters the tent with little ceremony. His hair tousled and his face pale in the cold of the night. In one of his hands, hanging from a small hook, two big fishes. In the other, what appears to be a large bunch of herbs, flowers, and branches.  
  
Seeing him, two emotions gain strength in his chest. The relief of knowing that Ubba has not left him alone in that ritual, is mixed with the annoyance of understanding that the warrior has left him in the shadow regarding his intentions on purpose. For a second, he is about to comment on it but decide to stop in time. He is not going to let anger and frustration get the better of him.  
  
"It has been a good fishing." He says as a way of welcoming him, quickly getting up in his bed. He does not want to appear to have been loafing around.  
  
As he lights the fire, he notices that the other is about to clean one of the fish. Uhtred gestures to take the other when Ubba's voice stops him.  
  
“Don't touch the fish!”  
  
“I just want to help you, I didn't mean to ..”  
  
“Don't ... touch ... the ... fish.” He repeats, accentuating each word with a tone that does not allow for replies at the same time as he drops the entrails of one of the animals .  
  
Uhtred returns to his position on the bed. The exasperation making him feel the deep desire to get out of that narrow place. They couldn't even communicate. He really had no idea how this was going to work. If putting them in that position was really a product of the gods, then they were definitely insane.  
  
After a few minutes, what appears to be a fish stew cooks slowly in the cauldron.  
  
None have exchanged more words since the warrior's warning. Although, curiosity has always been one of his weaknesses, Uhtred simply watches patiently as the other adds certain flowers and spices to the food.  
  
Soon, a pleasant aroma fills the place. He would like to ask about it. What was all that? How did he achieve that aroma in his food? How he had learned to choose what he could eat?...  
  
The fear of being reprimanded again keeps him quiet.  
  
Ubba serves himself a portion when he thinks it's ready. Uhtred hesitates. The other is too volatile, so perhaps trying to take a portion for himself could be taken as an insult. The seconds pass, the hunger has made a knot in his stomach since the delicious aromas have begun to be perceived but the risk is too high. In that little place he has no space to run if he offends him. For a moment, the internal debate between eating or not, is all he can think about.  
  
“Eat.”  
  
It is not an invitation. It's almost an order but Uthred, this time, is secretly grateful. He brings the portion to his lips, feeling the food revitalize him after a strenuous day.  
  
“It's delicious.”  
  
He says it without being able to help it because it is genuinely what he thinks.  
  
Ubba grunts in response but the young man can see fleetingly, as something in his gaze softens. It is only a flash that is soon again clouded by his habitual surly, but Uhtred feels a certain hope nesting in him.

To be continue..


	2. Crescent moon

During the following days, Uhtred is dedicated to observe him. He only knows about Ubba that he is a great warrior who has fight in countless battles, has plundered entire villages and who is devoted to the will of the gods. He knows that this is exactly what makes him unpredictable and volatile.  
  
Ubba is popular with both men and women. He has several wives here and there and a small brood of children of his own, and judging by the blond hair of many of the children in the village, also bastards. He is a noisy man, whose presence fills whatever gathering he is in.  
  
This is what Uhtred has known before being forced to live with him. The man he shares his days with is different. His character is still dangerous and his patience has a very narrow limit, but his talkative spirit is limited with him to basic interactions.  
  
The young man is not used to such long periods of silence. In his family there was always someone to talk to, if it wasn't Ragnar the younger, Brida, his sister Thyra or even when he was still in Bebbanburg, Father Beocca were there to exchange thoughts or stories.  
  
Uhtred knows that his stay in that place does not necessarily have to be something pleasant, but the objective of all this becomes more and more elusive as the days go by. Ubba doesn't speak to him, nor does it help that he doesn't tell him what to do specifically. Since they have started living together, he has not taught him anything.  
  
Not that he hasn't tried to learn ...  
  
Tacitly, he has come to understand that Ubba will take care of the meals. Even when he is the one who gets the prey, it is the warlord who takes it from his hands and cooks for both of them. This at first puzzles him. For all practical purposes, in his village, everyone was able to provide for themselves. But food preparation was a task commonly carried out by the women of the community.  
  
This is not the case with Ubba. It takes him a while to conclude that the Dane does it because it gives him some kind of pleasure. He didn't do it out of some kindness, but out of a wish of his own and in fact, he was very good at it. When they dine each night, his compliments are genuine and Ubba seems to appreciate them ... to some extent.  
  
However, his attempts to learn something from Ubba, if not ideally fighting, at least how to cook properly, were always met with silence or grunts.  
  
After several days on the same plan, Uhtred feels like they are only going in circles.  
  
*  
  
The crescent moon can be seen on the horizon. Ubba has been much more irritable than usual for the past two days.  
  
Uhtred can't seem to do anything right. When he seeks to make decisions on his own, to improve coexistence in some way, he is admonished with harsh words and airy looks. This makes him feel like a kid. A naive child who is unable to fend for himself. Uhtred is on the verge of losing patience. The feeling of never being enough, so ingrained in him when he was still living in Bebbanburg, gradually comes back to populate his thoughts.  
  
He knows he must fight it. That this particular lord has never been sympathetic to him, and that his actions are the product of the annoyance of being obliged to be his guide that month. That perhaps, if he had had more luck, if the runes had pointed to another, today he would be learning things to become a true Dane.  
  
All his attempts to make sense of it all go overboard the day he is tanning one of the furs to make a blanket. During the nights, the cold seeps through the openings of the tent, so having one more coat would be useful.  
  
He has been working on it for several days, letting it dry, treating it to remove the smell of rot. This has given his days purpose and a distraction from his troubled worries. It's almost ready, he keeps it stretched out near the fire hoping to put the finishing touches on it when suddenly and without warning, Ubba storms into the place.  
  
"What the hell are you doing ?!" He roars, startling him. "It's crescent moon!" Ubba continues, removing the fur from the fire without any care and placing the cauldron in its place.  
  
The panic at being interrupted so abruptly quickly turns into frenetic anger.  
  
“So what? I was just trying ...”  
  
He doesn't have time to explain himself. The other gives him a scathing look. Uhtred understands that it doesn't have sense. That any attempt to give a reason for his actions will never be well seen by him.  
  
“At least I was trying to do something!” He sentenced without being able to hold back any longer.

“Since we are here you do not speak to me, everything I do does not work for you but you do not tell me what you want me to do, I have not learned anything, I'm not going to become a ...!”  
  
On an exhale Ubba is on him. The tent getting infinitely small in a second. His ominous figure is inches from his face. The difference in height between the two suddenly becoming too noticeable.  
  
"Do you want to learn?" He says in a dangerous hiss. Uhtred thinks he's going to hit him. He really does. He mentally prepares for the impact, but to his surprise, the other suddenly pulls away.  
  
“Today you will learn what it is to be a Dane.”  
  
Ubba smiles sideways. There is something in him. In his expression. Which makes him look like he's really lost his mind.  
  
*  
  
Uhtred feels a knot in his stomach. He has tried to remember everything he knows about that ritual, but his information is too little. Warlords did not speak openly about this, and he had never been so bold to ask. Broadly speaking, he knows that it must carry out some kind of training, some kind of preparation for his adult life.  
  
The Viking people are known for their fighting prowess, their recklessness and also ...  
  
And then Uhtred understands.  
  
Dusk finds them in the tent. Ubba is constantly stirring what appears to be the fat of some animal. Uthred feels ill. Now that he has realized what will happen, everything begins to make sense. Ubba's growing irascibility in recent days..  
  
It is little consolation that neither of them wants what will happen, but even so, Uhtred cannot help the uneasiness that seizes him.  
  
“You can leave at any time “ said the other suddenly while placing some mushrooms in a small bowl.  
  
“You can go back to the village. You are not a Dane, you never will be. It is a fact. There is no point in continuing.”  
  
It's the most words he's ever said to him and Uhtred would be somewhat relieved by them, if it weren't for the fact that that's not an option for him. Ubba tries to get him to give up, without a doubt he wants to end that forced coexistence but he cannot allow it. He must become a Dane if he wants to one day fulfill his destiny.  
  
"I will not go." Sentence firmly looking into his eyes. "I have come here for a reason. I will do what I have to do.”  
  
Ubba stops him movements. The two of them hold their gaze for long seconds. Finally, the lord sighs, standing up.  
  
“Fine, drink this and take off your clothes.”  
  
Uhtred obeys. The mushrooms have been smashed into an infusion that feels bitter in his mouth. He drinks it without question. Then comes the turn of the clothes. There is apprehension in his movements and his hands seem not to want to obey him, but he forces himself not to think. When he is finally naked and feeling the cold envelop him, the warlord nods his head as a sign for him to lie down.  
  
"Put your hands and your knees on the bed." He instructs while he also takes off his clothes.  
  
Uhtred can gradually feel the effect of the mushrooms. He feels slightly dizzy. The colors of the tent sharpening, the bright flames of the small fire capturing his attention. On his back, he perceives Ubba's hands. Feel his firm touch spreading his thighs, his buttocks ...  
  
But somehow, the sensations don't seem so real. The leaves, branches, and tiny beads hanging from the ceiling sway gently in the wind, capturing his attention. His gaze is lost in the knots of the ropes that support them, in their intricate patterns.  
  
When he feels Ubba inside him, an alarm goes off in his chest. There is discomfort, annoyance. Uhtred instinctively seeks to get away, but the other holds him back. Suddenly, he feels liquid run down his legs. He looks back and understands that the other is preparing him with the fat that he has been cooking in the cauldron.  
  
When Uhtred feels him again inside his body, the dizziness intensifies but he forces himself to stay in place. There is no point in escaping. He cannot escape. Where to go?  
  
Ubba takes a few minutes with him. Uhtred can hear his voice veiled. At first he thinks he is speaking to him, but soon realizes that he is only reciting words from a song. This is undoubtedly another ritual for the gods.  
  
That, in a way, makes things better. Ubba's voice fills the silence. Uhtred has never liked silence. His body begins to sway imperceptibly, following the chants.  
  
Ubba enters him and the pain, even with the effect of the mushrooms clouding his senses, takes his breath away. It was a sudden movement, firm and brutal. Uhtred feels the air leave his body and he forgets for a minute to breathe, until he feels the other's hand, leave his hip to place it on his stomach. Not moving yet. Ubba gives him a few seconds to compose himself. The huge hand on his stomach, rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales.  
  
The instant he can breathe normally again, Ubba begins to hump him. Uhtred feels the vertigo rise from his belly to his throat. The dizziness is getting worse. He feels the pain burning inside him, the feeling of strangeness at what is happening..

But another sensation is winning over the others. Fear. A nameless terror suddenly takes hold of him. It closes his throat and paralyzes him. He does not know why. It is not aimed at what he is experiencing, until he sees it.  
  
A shadow.  
  
On the fabric of the tent a black shadow can be clearly seen approaching. A cold sweat runs down his back. Enemies? Are they going to be ambushed?  
  
He tries to speak, to warn Ubba what is happening but his throat is dry and his voice is thick. His body is still shaking from the thrusts, but he can no longer focus his attention on that.  
  
The figure enters the tent. He only sees its ragged tunic, a strong smell of rain suddenly fills the place. Is not raining. Uthred knows it and yet the scent of wet earth fills his senses. The shadow ventures into the place.  
  
How can Ubba not notice? Uhtred tries again to get his attention. With one of his hands he grasps his. But the other does not stop or give any indication of understanding what is happening.  
  
It moves like a man but it is not. Uhtred can't look at it. He cannot give the command to his eyes to look up. His ears pick up the sound of something being dragged across the ground. It is a hammer.  
  
*  
  
When he wakes up he feels his mouth dry. Uhtred looks around disoriented. Ubba is sitting on the bed in front of him. In his hands a figure made of reeds and branches. His fingers intertwine the fine reeds to form the shape.  
  
Nausea rushes into his throat as soon as he tries to sit up. Getting tangled up with the furs, stumbling and almost falling flat on his face, he manages to reach the outside to vomit. He feels awful.  
  
The headache becomes one with the discomfort in his body. Each step causes a stab of pain in his back, but he doesn't stop. He must get away from there as quickly as possible. His steps are entangled with each other, the landscape darkens at times.  
  
When he reaches the first line of trees, he grasps the outline of a pine tree with his hands for balance. He breathes. His lungs suck in the cold air in deep gulps. The headache is subsiding, the dizziness seems to give him a respite. 

_Why is he escaping? Where is he going?_  
  
Confused, he looks around. He certainly does not escape the fury of the warlord, Ubba does not pursue him. His mind is blank. For long minutes, he does not know what to think.  
  
He can't understand it, until he feels the wind blowing through the trees. The leaves flutter around him, and then he realizes the reason for his reaction.  
  
With staggering steps he returns to the tent. There, the Dane raises an inquisitive eyebrow at his curious way of behaving but continues with his work without paying much attention to him.  
  
Uhtred approaches the bed and with a gesture of pain manages to sit up. He does not know exactly how to handle that conversation. What exactly to say. He fears that his vision will be discarded, that his terror will be ridiculed as a mushroom fantasy. It certainly isn't. In the years that he has lived with the Viking people, he has become accustomed to consuming hallucinogenic substances from time to time. None have made him see what the night before he saw.  
  
"I think the God Thor was here last night." The words sound ridiculous in his ears. He has tried to give them a casual tone, but his own insecurity is seen among them.  
  
Ubba stops what he is doing to observe him. That, in a way, encourages him to continue.  
  
“It entered through the opening of the tent while we ...”  
  
“What are you saying?!” Ubba interrupts him.  
  
“I know! I know how it sounds! ”He fights back, helpless at the impossibility of explaining himself in a better way.  
  
Silence stretches like a heavy blanket between the two. Uhtred does not understand how he has gone so long without being hit, but he really fears that this is the moment when he will break his luck.  
  
Suddenly, Ubba stands up. He prepares to defend himself, but curiously, the huge warrior does not pounce on him but outwards. He lingers there for a moment and then comes back in, running a hand through his hair. Deep confusion on his face.  
  
“And how was it?” The blond finally asks, sitting down again, with a genuine gesture of intrigue. Uhtred feels a deep sense of relief running through him. He won't be hit at least.  
  
“I couldn't see his face, but he had a long threadbare robe and a heavy hammer in his hand ...”  
  
He stops unsure. It is not easy to say all that. He has never been a particularly religious man and that experience has left him more doubt than certain. Ubba gestures with his hand for his to continue.   
  
“He emitted a feeling of power, like the one you feel when lightning strikes nearby.”  
  
He cannot speak of the terror. Of the profound impression that witnessing such an apparition has caused him. He can't exactly say that he've been so moved by it all, but it doesn't seem necessary.  
  
After a few seconds of staring at him, Ubba leaps to his feet. A big smile fills his face and he extends his hands in gratitude to the gods. Suddenly, as unexpectedly as he has stood up, he begins to dance.  
  
Uhtred is not even able to process what is happening when he is suddenly pulled by the shoulders and dragged into the dance. He's still naked, so he's doing his best not to lose the fur around his hips. Ubba hugs him and shouts screams into the air. 

Uhtred doesn't understand anything.  
  
To be continue..


	3. Full moon

They walk the path that surrounds the nearest mountain following the course of the river. Their intention is to reach one of the great lakes that populate the area.  
  
The hike is arduous but not to the point of exhaustion. If his body was not yet weakened by the events of the previous night, it would be child's play for him.  
  
Ubba walks a few steps forward. His enormous figure makes his way down the road as if he were the king of the place. Since they left the tent that morning, he has not stopped talking about the gods and their rituals.  
  
Uhtred can't help but feel a deep bewilderment. From one moment to the next, he found himself in the presence of a totally different man. The sullenness and silence of the previous days had quickly been replaced by verbiage and good spirits difficult to understand. Suddenly, it was as if the Ubba he had known in the village, that noisy warrior proud of his conquests and battles, had personified himself there.  
  
Ravn's words, in that instant, take on a powerful meaning.  
  
“The ritual last night invoked the God Thor” Ubba observes him from the corner of his eye, continuing his march.

“All this, what we do and what we will do, has to do with his strength and power. To be a warrior ..” He cuts a branch with his ax that blocks their way. “It is related to his will.”  
  
"That's why you've been so lucky, I never ..."  
  
He stops abruptly, placing a hand on his chest to slow his advance. From the hill where they are, they can see a pack of wolves scampering on the shore. They haven't seen them, too busy with their own internal quarrels.  
  
They watch their interactions carefully. The wolves swoop down on a pack member who screams and shows his belly in submission. He stays in that position even after the others move away. Uhtred can't help but feel empathy for him. He has been expelled. He will not be able to return with them.  
  
*  
  
The traps are located along the coast, next to rocks and ledges. Uhtred discovers the reason for Ubba's long absence on the first day. Obviously, the Viking had been making and placing them to catch fish.  
  
Uhtred approaches one of them to verify the capture. It's empty. For a moment he stops there, observing the majestic landscape. The lake has an impossible turquoise color as a result of the thaw. The rocks are easily visible under the water. Mountains and trees surround the place like jealous protectors.  
  
In that instant Uhtred feels the powerful desire to become one with that mighty immensity. Without thinking too much about it, he takes off his clothes and goes into the water. The cold takes his breath away, but he feels like being at home. The discomfort and the feeling of grogginess are removed at that moment, giving way to a feeling of freshness and fullness.  
  
“What are you doing?” Inquires Ubba from the shore without stopping watching him.  
  
He smiles at him.  
  
"This way it is easier to find the traps that are further away!" He replies as he begins to swim on the icy surface.  
  
*  
  
He feels a lot better after that. As if the night's experience had only been the product of a bad dream. Ubba is still in good spirits. It also helps that they have managed to catch three huge trouts.  
  
They eat what the warrior cooked and then each goes about their own business. Uhtred takes the opportunity to learn how to set up those kinds of traps that have proven so effective. He spends all day trying to reproduce them by memory, until he finally manages to finish one. When he sees it in his hands, Ubba just nods his head in approval. Uhtred feels that it is more than he has achieved with him since they have been there, so he is satisfied.  
  
It is during the night that he has problems. He has never been a fearful man, but he cannot prevent the memories of the black shadow entering the tent from assailing him in his dreams. It also doesn't help that a pack of wolves (probably the one they've seen before) tears apart the night with their howls. The blade in his hand gives him a certain sense of security. Despite this, he spends much of the night awake.  
  
*  
  
The next day, Ubba throws a thick branch across his chest. He is still somewhat groggy from lack of sleep, so it takes a few seconds for him to react.  
  
"Come on! Come!" The other prompts him from his place. Uthred notices that he too is armed with a branch. Then understand. Excitement bubbles inside him making him forget his lethargy completely. They will fight.  
  
Uthred rushes at the huge warrior, lashes out at him, once, twice, three times. His movements are fast and studied, but the strength of the dane is much greater than imagined. After a few minutes he is lying on the ground doubled over after receiving a full blow in his ribs.  
  
"Really ?! Ragnar put his reputation on the line for you?" Laughter breaks out in the clearing scaring away a flock of birds. "You're going to have to do better than that."  
  
Uhtred notices the shame turning his cheeks red. Anger anda humiliation are barely tempered by physical pain. He gets up once more. The branch in his hands is hardly a weak substitute for what might be a true sword but still weighs in his hands. He returns to the charge in full force. The creaking of wood echoes in the forest, splinters fly because of the impact. Ubba charges hard against him until the branch he uses as protection breaks in two.  
  
Uhtred ends that first session with blistered hands and bruises all over his body. His spirit, however, retains a hopeful expectation. He didn't know exactly what had prompted the Dane to start training him. If it had been a product of his supposed connection with the gods or the simple fact that the other also needed to be distracted with something those days. Whatever the reason, he would learn to be a warrior from the hand of one of the most fearsome warlords. He couldn't ask for more.  
  
*  
  
That night, when their bodies meet again, Uhtred asks to change the position. He will not say that his requirement responds to the fact of not facing the opening of the tent. That his terror still lurks in his thoughts.  
  
This new position provides him with a curious discovery. Lying on his back on the bed, with Ubba between his legs, he feels a curious electric sensation go through him with certain movements. As if a part of himself began to assimilate that act in a different way.  
  
That new sensation and the change in perspective will almost make him forget for a second the shadow of the God.  
  
*  
  
He is awakened by a constant guttural sound. It doesn't awaken him, not at first. The sound seeps into his senses little by little. Strangeness soon gives way to worry. That sound is not normal.  
  
Teeth are the first thing he sees. Sharp yellow teeth flood his field of vision. Fenrir? He thinks immediately. A gasp escapes from his mouth. Ubba's hand encircling his torso stops him from making a sudden movement.  
  
His mind frantically seeks to make sense of the situation. He's still in the Dane's bed. After having sex, it is clear that they have fallen asleep. He has spent the night by his side.  
  
It is not Fenrir. But without a doubt, it is a wolf. His skeletal figure is on the remains of food that has been left in the cauldron. The growl threatens them to stay in place. It is a strange situation. These creatures seldom ventured into the territory of men. Unless they were really desperate. 

Uhtred watches carefully the silver sparkles on the animal's fur. It is the expelled wolf that they have crossed the previous day. It is clear that in his desperation to find prey he has chosen to take risks with them.  
  
He feels Ubba's body move slowly behind him. The animal follows his movements, eating rapidly between warning grunts. Uhtred sees from the periphery of his vision as the other takes his ax. The wolf stops eating. His growls increasing.

Uhtred knows he will attack them. He internally reproach himself for not having any weapon nearby. With the confusion generated by eating mushrooms each night, he has completely forgotten that detail.  
  
The beast's eyes flash dangerously before pouncing on them. Instinctively, Uthred places his hands over his face trying to protect himself. He only get to feel a warm dew before the place turns into chaos. Blood. 

The desperate howls of the wolf mingle with Ubba's howls. The Dane has buried his ax in the neck of the beast but it has not been enough to kill him so now the two are involved in a fierce fight. He is in the middle.  
  
The scene ends sooner than expected. They are both covered in scratches, but neither is seriously injured. The wolf on the other hand ...  
  
His extended fur hangs over a structure made of improvised branches. His meat will feed them for days.  
  
Ubba is covered in blood. That, together with his manic expression from the recent fight, gives him a fierce air. It is at some point in all that, that Uhtred feels that something in his disposition changes. 

Ubba is a warlord, he says to himself and suddenly those words have a weight that they have not had until now. The man has saved him. It has been his strength and his foresight as a warrior that has made him alive today. A deep admiration begins to grow in him.  
  
He had never seen Ubba in any other way than with respect and fear. But now ...  
  
Now he felt there were other things. The strength of this new feeling surprises and bewilders him.  
  
*  
  
Ubba's body is warm. It is something that Uhtred notices as the days go by and drows his attention. After the sex required by the ritual, he has taken the habit of remaining in the same bed as the warrior. 

It is not something they have decided. It just happened. He usually falls unconscious at some point and Ubba does not urge him to leave. It is a curious behavior since the bed is too small for the two, but the other does not seem to mind.  
  
The warmth of Ubba's body reminds him a lot of his brother's. When he and Ragnar chose to share body heat during particularly cold nights, he was always struck by the stark difference between the Dane and Brida. Brida was always cold, just like him. Maybe it was something that had to do with their origins. Maybe all Saxons were cold and Danes were warm ..  
  
“What are you thinking, boy ?!”  
  
He has tripped over a branch while fighting and the blow to his back stops his thoughts.  
  
“I'm not a boy.” He protest ashamed by his clumsiness. Ubba always called him that way when he wanted to make him angry.  
  
The other gives a loud laugh but still offers his hand. He takes it with confidence. His hand is also warm.  
  
*  
  
On many occasions, Uthred finds himself simply watching him. Ubba is certainly a formidable man. His physical prowess and strength are unmatched. He has never seen anyone who can rival him. The tattoo on the side of his face and his messy hair complete the picture giving him a wild look.  
  
That is what he can see with the naked eye. Now, there are aspects of Ubba that are not so easy to notice. His voice for example. When he is not taken by anger or discontent, the tone of his voice is soft. It does not seem to belong to the same person who is capable of decapitating a wolf with his ax.  
  
That leads him to think of his hands. Those hands so capable of giving death and pain with so little effort are also capable of delicate tasks. Selecting herbs from the undergrowth, assembling small and intricate figures of reeds as a tribute to the gods, preparing him and holding him almost every night ..  
  
Over time, as their bodies begin to become more and more accustomed to each other, it becomes clear to him that Ubba is capable of surprising gentleness. He has never hurt him despite the notable differences between the two and although having him inside is something he does not quite get used to, it is no longer a dreaded scenario like that first day.  
  
*  
  
That night he feels the presence of the God again. He's not sure how, but this time Ubba senses it too. Something in their movements changes. His chants stop. Uhtred feels that familiar terror again when the shadow moves outside the tent.  
  
The light emitted by the fire projects the presence inside the place giving it monstrous tints. Uhtred is not even sure it is the same God. The presence is stirring outside. A powerful wind shakes the precarious fabrics that protect them. The strong smell of rain invades his senses.  
  
“Ubba!” He can articulate his name with great effort. His hands cling unconsciously to the body of the other looking for a hold against all that madness.  
  
"Look!" Ubba's voice is heard over the gale that hits them. The tent does not yield but shudders as if a powerful storm were raging outside.  
  
Uhtred forces himself to look. Uses all his strength to lift his face and direct his gaze to the opening. There, the fabrics shake furiously allowing the exterior to be glimpsed at times. The shadow is approaching little by little. The flames are instantly extinguished. A dense gray smoke fills the place. The smoke stings his eyes and throat. Still, he forces himself to look.  
  
*  
  
Uhtred remains prostrate for long hours. There are no injuries, no signs of violence. He lies on the bed with his eyes open and his gaze fixed on the objects that hang like ornaments. He is awake but he is not. There is nothing physical to justify its condition.  
  
Ubba remains by his side while his unconsciousness lasts.  
  
*  
  
It dawns without traces of rain. There haven't been any storms that could give a reason for the windswept last night. The sun lights up the entire place, heralding a strangely hot day for the time of year.  
  
Ubba is collecting firewood when he sees him leave the tent. For a moment, he does not recognize Uhtred. Something about his appearance is different but he cannot pinpoint exactly what.  
  
When he reaches his side, Uhtred takes his mouth with a voraciousness that leaves him momentarily perplexed. The Saxon's tongue runs across his lips with marked intensity.  
  
There are no traces of the passivity of the previous days, of the detachment product of duty. No. There, as Uhtred runs his hands eager to touch his flesh, there is something else.  
  
A passion that has never existed before. A desire that overflows from his body. It is he, who initiates the encounter, who barely takes off his clothes and receives him inside as soon as they lie down on the forest floor. This time it is his voice, the one that recites the songs that he has undoubtedly learned through repetition.  
  
Ubba sees him move over his body. Watch each of the undulating movements of his hips on his manhood. The Viking words on his lips, the messy hair, the conviction and desire in his eyes.  
  
Ubba will never admit it. But that day, for a moment, he does not see Uhtred, but something else. Something that exceeds Saxons and Danes. Something that does not belong to the world of men.  
  
To be continue..


	4. Last quarter

“Is that story true?”  
  
Ubba watches him with an expression of genuine confusion and Uhtred can't help but feel something very similar to cuteness from assailing him.  
  
They are comfortably sit near the fire. They have been able to collect enough food, so they no longer have to go out. Because of this, they spend those moments fighting and exchanging stories. Despite his well-known rejection of anything involving the Saxons, the Dane was avidly curious about their stories.  
  
“Well, the Christian scriptures say that Jonah spent his days inside a whale. I've never seen one so I can't be sure if that's possible.”  
  
Silence stretches between the two. Uhtred takes advantage of the impasse to remove the stake holding his fish from the fire.  
  
"It's not ready yet." The other chides him. The young man rolls his eyes. He would never know what instinct the warrior possessed to know those things but he had to resign himself to the fact that he would never have it.  
  
“It is possible.” Manifest the eldest after a moment.

“They are huge beasts. I have seen them in the route to Iceland. A man can easily fit into one of them.”  
  
Uhtred doubts the conclusion reached by the Dane but chooses not to say anything. They have reached relative peace since they began living together. Ubba has proven to be a much more complex man than he believed. Despite his initial rawness, he has learned many things from him for which he is deeply grateful.

“What?”  
  
Uhtred realizes that he has been watching him without saying anything for too long.  
  
“I was just looking at your tattoo.” He answers wisely. Acknowledging that he has started to feel attracted to him would not be the smartest comment. Just because they had sex under those circumstances didn't mean they had to feel something for each other. Uhtred reproaches himself for his childish attraction, but there is nothing he can do to prevent it.  
  
"You want one?" Ubba doesn't look at him directly. His attention focused on pinching the meat of the fish to know if it's done.  
  
"A what?" He asks awkwardly, being again interrupted in his thoughts.  
  
Ubba points to the side of his face in response. Uhtred feels a vertigo similar to the day the other decided to start training him. Really?  
  
*  
  
The improvised needle made from fish bone burns when burying itself in his flesh. Uhtred endures the pain without complaint. The sensation is annoying but tolerable. Ubba has managed to made ink from some herbs and works silently on his right shoulder blade.  
  
One more hidden talent, he tells himself, as he watches the other dipping the bone from time to time into the dark liquid.  
  
Uhtred takes advantage of the silence to think. He is embarrassedly aware that his attraction to the warlord has increased exponentially during those days. He can no longer hide what he feels by telling himself that it is only admiration.  
  
The needle sinks back into his skin, tracing a winding path.  
  
No.  
  
Ubba has been the first in his life in this way. He had never felt like this with anyone else. That leads him to the conclusion that simple admiration could not justify the deep sense of belonging that invades him when Ubba is inside himself.  
  
In those moments, it is as if he does not want to be in another place. Bebbanburg, his revenge and his destiny, astonishingly forgotten. Yielded to those brief moments in which he feels unique and reciprocated.  
  
For a second, the irrational thought of staying there forever crosses his mind. Perhaps, they could not return to the village. Simply, continue their life there, hunting and living with the elements.  
  
“Stay still.” mutters the other between teeth. 

Or maybe not. Maybe they would eventually kill each other. He smiles.  
  
“Ubba” His voice comes out like a gasp. He turns to see him. His face is close, very close ..  
  
He takes his mouth without thinking. It is almost an instinctive gesture. He knows he shouldn't. That what he does does not respond to any ritual. The sun has not yet set. There is no moon that accompanies them in those moments.  
  
The day before, when he woke up from his slumber, he did not feel the same. He knew that he had started it but in his mind there were only fragments of the encounter. But now...  
  
Now there was nothing to justify his actions. Ubba could certainly beat himto death at his impertinence and he would be in his own right.   
  
His lips seeks the Dane's slowly, as if they were doing it for the first time. His hands rest on his chest. On safe ground, on a place they know and have caressed before. The customary warmth of his body invades him little by little and it is curious because the seconds pass and Ubba does not reject him. He does not push him away or insult him. He remains there corresponding him but without going beyond. Without taking control.  
  
Their bodies speak a language of their own.   
  
Uhtred feels an electricity run through him at this. He turns completely to face him. His back still burns with the fresh remains of the tattoo but does not care. He desperately searches for something in the Dane's gaze and finds it. Determination, desire..

He kisses him again, this time without any qualms.   
  
Uhtred wants ...What does he want? 

His hands grasp and tug at the clothing. His breath falls short between kisses. The sensation in his lower abdomen grows more and more as more skin is exposed.  
  
What does he really want?  
  
His.  
  
He caresses Ubba's torso, his neck, his sex. His body deserves to be worshiped that way, without chants, without runes, without gods. Just the two of them in that little tent, oblivious to the dilemmas of Danes and Saxons.  
  
His..  
  
Then he gets it.  
  
He wants to belong and that something belongs to him.  
  
The name "Ubba" is pronounced like a peglaria. As if only with that word Uhtred could verbalize and give coherence to the troubled course of his thoughts.  
  
"Ubba" He repeats and the other's gaze connects for a second with his. A nod. Uhtred does not know how but the other has understood the request that he has not been able to pronounce.  
  
With the shaking of arousal making it difficult to coordinate his movements, he finds the grease. He soaks his hands with it.  
  
"If you hurt me, I'll kill you." Sentenced the other when opening his legs. Uhtred would like to roll his eyes and make a sarcastic comment but he knows that this is not a threat, it is a reality.  
  
Uhtred prepares him by trying to keep a never-before-experienced nervousness at bay. His trembling fingers enter him slowly, careful to remember what his first time was like. His inexperience is undoubtedly notorious, but his desire rival it.  
  
"Come on, come here." Ubba growls eventually taking him by the arm.  
  
Uhtred hasn't even taken half the time the Dane took with him in their first meeting, but he's not going to question it. Little by little he enters his body more attentive to the reactions of the other than to his own pleasure. He really wants to keep his word, more for Ubba's well-being than for his threat, so he advances inch by inch.  
  
Patience is clearly not one of the Danish qualities. With a firm push with his legs, he draws Uhtred inside him. They both gasp at the abrupt movement but the blonde smiles in amusement. Uhtred envies him, he can't even think coherently. His body transmits a tide of sensations. The abrasive warmth, the pressure, the strong desire to thrust and at the same time control himself so as not to come in that instant.  
  
He thrusts.  
  
He does it as he can. As his instinct dictates. Slowly at first but quickly picking up pace. He trust fully in the connection they have, in the language that their skins speak. Somehow, he knows how to angle his hips so that the other feels pleasure. Ubba keeps his eyes closed, accompanies his movements with a wild surrender, but reserves his gaze. He reserves his true feelings. Uthred would like to see him.

He has never felt that way with anyone. Not even in Bebbanburg has he felt so reciprocated.  
  
He wishes ...  
  
He wishes he had the courage to confess it.  
  
*  
  
When he finishes fitting the wolf skin over the leather, he knows it is done. Over the days he has managed to tan the skin and then tie it to the garment. With that implement under the bib, the upper part of the clothing will be protective but also warm in harsh winters. He is proud of his work. He plans to gift it to Ubba in gratitude, as soon as he returns from paying his tributes to the Gods.  
  
It is his last day in that place. The tent, once perceived as small and cramped, now feels strangely large without the company of the older. Uhtred takes advantage of the wait to finish listing his belongings. There is not much to collect, but still he tries not to sit idle.  
  
The sun shines high in the sky. It has been several hours since Ubba left along with his runes and mushrooms. Uthred does not want to be alarmed, but when the afternoon creeps into the clearing, he cannot help but feel that first-day uneasiness again. Where was him? They had already lost much of the sunlight and the path was too long and tough to do at night.  
  
When the wind begins to blow and the rays of light threaten to hide among the trees, he decides to go looking for him. He looks for his trail, recognizes the places where he has passed, the branches that he has cut with his ax. 

After a few minutes he finds him. His enormous figure is bent over the runes. A small extinguished fire next to him with the remains of the mushrooms that they usually drink to have visions.  
  
Strangeness invades him. Ubba doesn't move. He turns his back on him and judging from his position he has not noticed his presence. The silence is heavy and ominous. Suddenly, it is as if the forest itself is holding its breath. A nameless fear slowly lodges in Uhtred's chest.  
  
"Ubba?" The insecurity in his voice is noticeable even to him.  
  
The dane shudders. Uhtred unconsciously back away. He's not sure how it happened, but from one moment to the next the giant is upon him. The sharp ax inches from his throat.  
  
"YOU!" He roars in anger and for a second the young man feels that he does not recognize him. That he has simply taken him for someone else. An enemy.  
  
"It's me, Uhtred!" He raises his hands in submission and at that moment his mind decides to show him the unfortunate parallel between his situation and that of the wolf expelled from his pack.  
  
"I KNOW IT'S YOU! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE EXACTLY!" Ubba yells inches from his face. Uthred recoils but his back crashes into a tree. His mind desperately seeking to process the warlord's sudden change in attitude. What exactly have he done?  
  
Ubba raises his ax. Uhtred closes his eyes, sees his death in the other's angry gaze, in the shock on his face. His eyes glistening with tears he doesn't shed. Are they the product of anger? Of something else?  
  
The heavy steel is buried inches from his face. Splinters exploding against his cheeks. The ax has cut into the wood as if it were nothing. Terror is a force that immobilizes him. When he feels able to open his eyes, Ubba's face is inches away. His menacing figure looms over him like a shadow.  
  
“I know perfectly who you are...Dane-Slayer”

He spits out the words before giving him a strong head butt that knocks him unconscious. When Uhtred awakens, everything is dark.  
  
*  
  
The return trip takes him more than a day. A severe headache, anguish in his chest, and lots of questions have been his only companions during his return. The village welcomes him with a rarefied atmosphere. Obviously, Ubba has arrived before him and has spoken to Ragnar and the other warlords.  
  
Apprehension is a weight on his stomach as he head for the central hall. His desire for answers urges him to meet him again.  
  
What exactly had he done? Why the sudden change in attitude? Why did he called him a Dane-Slayer?  
  
The hall is empty. After Ubba's reaction he had imagined it would be like this. Despite that, seeing it with his own eyes makes him feel a lump in his throat.  
  
Uthred walks the place when he notices that he is not completely alone. Old Ravn watches his movements from a corner.   
  
“Ravn, I ...”

His first instinct is to explain himself but frankly he doesn't know what to explain. Not sure what Ubba has said of the month at his company. 

Ravn's searching gaze on his person only increases his nervousness. After a few seconds of silence, it is the old Viking who puts a stop to his uncertainty.  
  
“Ubba said things about you. Things he has seen. That the Gods have shown him.”

A vision. So that's what it was. A vision of me, the young man thinks frantically. He just had to explain. He was not and would not be a Dane-Slayer as his visions had shown. He had found a home with them, with him ...  
  
He never ...  
  
“After the fight with your father, Ubba left today with his men. We are not likely to see him around here again.”  
  
*  
  
Uhtred sees him again in dire circumstances. The murder of his family makes him furious and reckless. He can only think of the warlord as a source of help.  
  
During the journey with Brida to find him, Uthred fears but also hopes ..

He hopes that this misunderstanding has been left in the past ..  
  
That the vision of some runes does not prevail over what they have lived ..

He wears the wolf skin for if perhaps with that he could awaken memories. He takes it because if they fix things he will give it to him. That act will be the last remnant of his youthful innocence.  
  
Ubba receives him. It is disconcerting because at first, he embraces him and Uhtred feels for a second the hope that everything will go back to the way it was before. It's only a second. When Ubba pulls away, disbelief is all he can see in his expression. He doesn't believe his words even though Uhtred tries to explain himself over and over again. He does not care about his pain, the fury of having lost his family, his frustration at feeling that he could not do anything about it ...  
  
Ubba believes him to be the culprit of everything.  
  
Nothing has changed.  
  
When everyone is out of the church and only the two of them remain, Uhtred can clearly visualize what the wolf that was killed that day felt.  
  
Desperate, cornered ..  
  
Ubba throws him against a column and imprisons him against it. There is nothing of kindness in his treatment, in his hands ..  
  
“Kill me and you will not have your precious sorcerer!”  
  
It's the only thing holding him back. Uhtred knows it and that makes the pain even greater.  
  
"I admired you!" Damn his voice that breaks, damn his eyes that shed tears.

“I wanted, wanted ...!”  
  
 _I wanted you._  
  
Uhtred doesn't say it. His voice doesn't come out.  
  
Ubba drops him. He turns his back on him. Anger as a force emanating from his body. Loud, ragged breathing. He has summoned all his will to contain himself.  
  
"Get out!" He yells without looking at him, without even noticing that what he's been holding up has been a vestige of what they lived through for four moons.  
  
Uhtred leaves, Ubba won't change his mind. His gods will always be central in his life. The Dane's voice stops him before leaving.  
  
“Uhtred.”  
  
Ubba watches him with a strange expression that reminds him of the days when they used to exchange stories and Christian stories did not end the way he wanted. Confusion and hopelessness.  
  
“When we meet again ... I'll kill you.”  
  
*  
  
At their next meeting, Uhtred is in the company of the King of Wessex ...  
  
Saxon warriors accompany him when they must negotiate...

They have started calling him "Dane-Slayer"  
  
The day that fate finally confronts them, none of them will notice that the moon will be the same one that accompanied them on the last day of the ritual. Ubba will speak of his cowardice and he will attack his faith towards his gods.  
  
They will both be hurt, physically and emotionally, by the time Uhtred buries his sword in Ubba's heart.  
  
*  
  
Uhtred sighs letting the air out slowly. The room is cold and damp like any church. Alfred remains silent beside him. His gaze fixed on the altar.  
  
He had gone there with the intention of asking the king that Ubba be buried with respect, that his body not be desecrated. But he had ended up talking for long minutes. That story had wanted to get out of himself without trying. He had certainly been careful not to mention the sex in his story. This detail was too much for the king's Christian stomach, but nothing else had been left out.  
  
"Do you think the Christian God listens?" He asks, following the king's gaze.  
  
Alfred flinches, for a second he seems to have been lost in thought. When he looks up at him, a hint of enthusiasm colors his words at his sudden interest in religion.  
  
“Of course, Uhtred. God hears all of our prayers.”  
  
Uhtred smiles. The Viking gods did not have time to listen to human dramas.  
  
"Lord Ubba will be buried with respect, as dictated by Christian customs." Sentenced the monarch standing up.  
  
Uhtred thanks him, suddenly feeling exhausted. He just wants to drop into the first bed he finds when Alfred's voice stops him.  
  
“Uhtred”  
  
It is only a moment, but suddenly the warrior feels the other doubtful. As if his personal curiosity fought his role as king.  
  
“Yes, Lord.”  
  
Uthred waits until he comes to terms with his thoughts. Alfred has been patient with him, listening to him. Now he will do the same. After a few seconds of silence, the king seems to make up his mind.  
  
“What did you see that day in the tent?”  
  
For long seconds, Uhtred says nothing.  
  
“I don't remember Lord. It was just hallucinations from the mushrooms. Ubba never accepted me because I was a Saxon. The visions only confirmed his fears.”  
  
He wishes to confess the truth, but he cannot. Revealing something like that would only made Alfred doubtful of his own faith. He couldn't do that to him. He didn't want to question the religion that sustained him and made him happy. He had already learned his lesson in relation to that.  
  
End

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so sorry if you find mistakes!


End file.
